


unraveling the mystery of you

by lazyfish



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Detectives, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-01
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-13 17:15:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29779482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lazyfish/pseuds/lazyfish
Summary: Leo Fitz was known for being many things, but being pleasant to work with was not one of them.
Relationships: Leo Fitz/Lance Hunter
Comments: 6
Kudos: 12





	unraveling the mystery of you

**Author's Note:**

> This is a continuation of [this ficlet](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24500032/chapters/59762440), but it's not entirely necessary to read/understand.

Fitz slammed the door to the office behind him, striding over to his desk and bracing himself against it as he took several long, slow breaths. Lance Hunter wasn’t worth getting so riled up over, especially not since the other consulting detective had been right when he said the butler wasn’t the one who committed the crime. Fitz would’ve hated the cliche, but he had been so certain of the man’s guilt right up until Hunter stepped in. 

Perhaps, Fitz thought as he pulled in another breath, it was precisely because Hunter was right that Fitz was so agitated. He wasn’t used to anyone coming close to his brilliance, and especially not used to someone doing so… carelessly, maybe, would be the word to describe the way Hunter existed. He didn’t care about what anyone else was thinking when he strode around the crime scene or when he made his declaration of the butler’s innocence. He just told the truth, and nothing but the truth.

It was maddening.

Fitz managed to make his way into his desk chair, eyes sliding shut as he reviewed the details of the morning one final time. An eidetic memory was useful in his line of work, but less so when the details he remembered were the way Hunter’s jeans hugged his arse and the smirk on the other man’s face when he’d introduced himself to Fitz. 

“Fuck,” Fitz breathed into the empty office. He wasn’t used to being attracted to people - most people were, honestly, beneath his notice - and he was even less used to the attraction hitting him like a thunderbolt. It had only ever happened one time before, and that had ended… poorly would be an understatement.

“Don’t worry, love, we all have our off days.” Fitz’s eyes snapped open to see Hunter leaning casually against his door frame, same tell-tale smirk on his face.

“What are you doing here?” 

“Coulson told me you might have some files I ought to see. I figured it was better to get them now so I can get out of your hair.” Hunter strolled over to the desk with a sort of casual elegance Fitz envied. Hunter was the sort of person who could part crowds just by moving through them; Fitz had to _storm_ in order for people to pay him any attention at all.

“What did he want you to see?” Fitz asked tightly.

“You have copies of the victim’s correspondence from the week before he died?”

Fitz nodded, rifling through the drawers of his desk until he found the file Hunter needed. He pushed it across the desk and instead of taking it, Hunter opened it then and there, flicking through the papers.

“I thought you wanted to get out of my hair,” Fitz all but growled.

“I’ve decided I’d rather stay in it.” Hunter grinned. “You have lovely hair, has anyone ever told you that?”

Fitz found himself at a genuine loss for words. First the man came in and contradicted everything Fitz said, then he demanded the information Fitz had worked hard to acquire, then he… complimented Fitz’s hair?

“But I know when I’ve overstayed my welcome.” Hunter flicked something in Fitz’s direction and Fitz caught it on reflex. A business card, he noted when his brain caught up with his body. “If you need me, call me, yeah?”

Fitz must’ve just imagined the wink Hunter threw over his shoulder before he strolled out.

\---

When he had finished at the office - viewing and reviewing his notes to figure out where he had gone wrong with his theory about the butler - Fitz headed for home.

 _Home_ was a one-bedroom flat above his landlady’s. Despite his reputation for being crotchety, Fitz was an exemplary tenant, which Miss Price appreciated. He threw his briefcase onto the armchair in the living room but didn’t linger, instead heading straight for his bedroom.

He locked the door behind him even though he lived alone; it wasn’t often he found the urge to masturbate just as it wasn’t often he found himself attracted to strangers on the street, so when inspiration did strike Fitz seized it.

He didn’t manage to make it to the bed, instead leaning against his bedroom door and popping the button to his trousers with one shaking hand while the other undid his zipper. Trying to navigate his aching cock out of his boxers seemed too large of a feat for his addled brain so he settled for rubbing at his prick through the fabric, groaning brokenly at the abundance of sensation.

Physicality alone was pleasurable, but it was the thought of Hunter’s hands in place of his that really did Fitz in. Hunter oozed the sort of confidence that undoubtedly translated to him being an excellent shag on account of him having so much practice. Fitz didn’t even care if he would be just another notch on Hunter’s bedpost, not when he was the first person Fitz had been attracted to in a long while.

What was it about him that Fitz found so interesting? Within half an hour of meeting him Fitz had known he’d wanted to fuck - or preferably, be fucked by - Hunter, despite him being an absolutely smarmy arse. 

It was the defiance, Fitz decided as he continued stroking himself. Most people bowed to Fitz’s whims, but that was never what he had liked in a partner, either romantic or sexual. He liked someone with a bit of tooth, someone who would challenge him to be better. Not many people could do that.

“Fuck.” Fitz grunted as his cock emptied itself into his boxers. The release was swift and sudden, but rather than be accompanied by a wave of relief, it seemed like the pressure in his lower belly was just building more.

It was going to be a long night.

\---

Fitz was hoping revisiting the scene of the crime would be an illuminating experience. It wasn’t.

For reasons he couldn’t ascertain, his brain wasn’t working nearly as quickly as it normally did. He could make observations, but they fell together clunkily into conclusions, and Fitz wasn’t sure he was comfortable sharing any of his deductions aloud when they didn’t seem to be moving as smoothly as they normally did. What if this was a sign that something was wrong with him, and he was losing his touch?”

“Good morning, Fitzy!” Hunter breezed into the room with a gleeful smile. He was already wearing blue nitrile gloves identical to the ones Fitz had on his own hands to help preserve evidence, and despite the seemingly careless way in which he threw his limbs about, Hunter avoided stepping anywhere near essential evidence.

“Anything jumping out at you?” Hunter asked, coming to stand at Fitz’s shoulder. Either he was closer than he was strictly necessary or Fitz was hyper aware of his presence, because he could feel the heat radiating off the other man in waves. It would’ve been pleasant, if Fitz wasn’t already hot under the collar for an entirely different reason.

“Ticket stub,” Fitz said, holding up an evidence bag. The ticket was for one of the many double-decker bus tours that went around London. Fitz had already called to see if there was a record of the purchase, but it had been paid for in cash and thus couldn’t be traced back to anyone.

Hunter took the evidence bag, frowning. “We’re not looking for a tourist, though.”

“I concur.” A more amateur detective might’ve drawn the conclusion that only visitors to the area would’ve taken a tour bus, but Fitz was convinced that detail was just to throw them off the scent. Why else would the crime scene be totally clean save for one stub of a ticket? A criminal competent enough to clean the crime scene wouldn’t have left behind one of the only pieces of evidence that could lead to their capture. Fitz was intending to take the stub to the lab for fingerprints later, and maybe that would turn up something even if tracing the ticket hadn’t.

“What are you thinking, then? Londonite or transplant?” Hunter asked.

“I don’t know,” Fitz sighed. He hadn’t gotten that far, with his brain behaving the way it was. 

“You know how we might be able to tell?” Hunter’s mouth was suspiciously close to Fitz’s ear, close enough it couldn’t have been an accident. 

“How?”

“A field trip.”

\---

Somehow, Hunter had convinced Fitz the field trip idea wasn’t entirely harebrained, and they’d taken off from the scene of the crime towards the heart of London. It was easy to forget Hunter was ex-Army until he got to walking. He marched with the quick, precise steps of someone who was used to doing it hours at a time, and Fitz had to strive to keep up with the other man.

They reached the ticket window of the bus company and bought themselves two tickets for the one o’clock bus, the same one their killer had supposedly been on. They had a quick lunch at a café(which was absolute torture - Fitz swore Hunter could tell what dirty things Fitz was thinking when Hunter licked yogurt of his plastic spoon) before boarding the bus.

“Top or bottom?” Hunter asked as they began climbing up the stairs.

“W-what?” Fitz stuttered.

“Of the bus, love,” Hunter said, smirking. “Do you want to sit on the top or bottom?”

“Bottom,” Fitz said, hoping Hunter didn’t read too much into his answer. “It’s supposed to rain today, isn’t it?” he added as a hasty explanation.

“I never check the weather forecast,” Hunter said. “You want the aisle or window?”

“Either is fine,” Fitz said. Hunter slid into the window seat and Fitz sat in the aisle, trying not to pay any attention to how Hunter’s hand had settled on his knee. 

“Keep an eye out for anyone suspicious looking, would you?”

“It’s a tour bus. They all look suspicious,” Fitz muttered back. Was that his natural distrust for Americans showing itself? Perhaps, but he didn’t trust anyone who would pay an arm and a leg to be shown around London. They just pointed out the same three landmarks that were on every post card and called it a day. If it wasn’t necessary for work, Fitz wouldn’t have done it.

Except for maybe if Hunter asked.

But this wasn’t a date between him and Hunter; as far as he knew the other man was only interested in him in a professional capacity. Which was a shame, given Fitz’s abysmal powers of seduction and how badly he wanted Hunter.

The bus jerked into motion and Fitz had to take his mind off Hunter in favor of actually paying attention to the case. Play could come after work, if he was lucky.

\---

The bus ride hadn’t been as insightful as Fitz had hoped, but he was beginning to think maybe the point of it wasn’t insight. Hunter’s hand had spent the ride climbing higher and higher on Fitz’s leg, and by the end of it Hunter’s fingers had nearly been on Fitz’s crotch. That had led to Fitz spending more of the bus ride doing deep breathing exercises to hold back an erection than actually paying attention to his surroundings.

At the end of it Hunter had suggested they go back to Fitz’s office to debrief, and Fitz was happy to agree if only because it meant Hunter couldn’t torture him any longer.

Fitz’s office was… messy would be a generous word for it. Everything had its place, but only Fitz knew where that place was, and occasionally he did forget, leading to quite the scavenger hunt when Coulson swung by and needed a piece of information quickly.

Hunter took in the chaos with an appraising eye, then chuckled at it. “Somehow I expected you to be neater.”

“My flat is neater than my office,” Fitz said, which was true. The reason it was true was because Fitz didn’t spend enough time in his flat to truly get it messy, but Hunter didn’t need to know that.

“Perhaps you can show me your flat later so I can verify that claim,” Hunter said lightly.

Fitz’s heart hammered in his chest. Had Hunter just invited himself home with Fitz?

“So, Fitz.” Hunter ambled over to Fitz’s desk, sitting on the edge. “Am I wrong in thinking there’s something between us?”

And here Fitz had thought Hunter didn’t know what he was doing with all those smirks and teasing touches. Of course he had to know what he was doing - a man as gorgeous as Hunter didn’t flirt by accident. Why he had taken an interest in Fitz the consulting detective didn’t know. That hardly seemed important, though, especially since Fitz couldn’t pinpoint the reasoning behind his own attraction other than that Hunter was challenging (and also had an arse sculpted by the gods).

“Why do you ask?” Fitz said instead of admitting his feelings. He copied Hunter’s slow stroll, stopping just in front of the other man. This was the first time he’d actually been able to look down on Hunter; the other man was a few inches taller, and rarely sat down. Looking down on Hunter was something Fitz could get used to, though. His eyes caught the light different at this angle, making them appear almost honey-gold instead of theri normal hazel.

“Because there’s something I want to do, but not without you wanting to do it too.”

Fitz gulped, his mind already flying to scenes of Hunter bending him over the messy desk. His cock twitched in his pants and Fitz took a calming breath. “Which is?”

“This.” Hunter leaned forward, cupping Fitz’s face as he pulled him in for a kiss. 

Fitz’s lips parted easily when Hunter pushed his tongue against the seam between them, and Fitz let out a sigh into Hunter’s mouth when their tongues began to explore each other. Kissing was nice. Kissing was very nice, especially when Hunter was pulling him closer, and closer, and closer.

Hunter squeezed Fitz’s arse and Fitz yelped in surprise, breaking the kiss.

“No ass pinching, then?” Hunter asked, eyes glimmering. His lips were already pinker than they were before, and Fitz wanted nothing more than to kiss him until his mouth was red and swollen.

“Warn a man next time,” Fitz growled before diving back in for another kiss. He could feel Hunter’s smile against his lips, and something warm lodged just behind Fitz’s sternum. Hunter somehow found his grumpiness amusing rather than annoying, which only served to endear him more to Fitz.

He knew his grumpiness drove people away, but he couldn’t help it when the rest of the world moved so much slower than he did; he just wanted to do good, and he couldn’t do good when surrounded by imbeciles.

Fitz’s mind was jerked away from imbeciles when Hunter moaned lowly, sending a jolt straight to Fitz’s cock.

“I could shag you right here, you know,” Hunter murmured against Fitz’s lips. “I could strip you out of those trousers and bend you over and -”

A knock sounded on the door, and Fitz swore under his breath. Coulson was the only one who ever bothered knocking, which meant it was probably someone - and something - important.

“I should get that,” Fitz said, pulling back. Hunter pushed himself off the desk, smoothing a hand through his hair.

“You should.”

When Fitz opened the door to let Coulson in (praying beyond all prayer the other man didn’t notice the tent in his pants), Hunter slipped out of the office, leaving Fitz confused and alone.

\---

Fitz didn’t normally get visitors, so when there was a knock at the door, he was more suspicious than curious. Against his better judgement he opened the door, and was rewarded for it by the appearance of one Lance Hunter on the other side.

“Fitz,” Hunter said, “may I come in?”

Fitz stepped back to allow Hunter into his flat, watching the other man with curious eyes. They hadn’t spoken of what had transpired - or failed to transpire - between them at the office and Fitz wasn’t awful enough at reading people not to know what that meant.

“Would you like to get naked?” Hunter asked.

“What?” Fitz asked, even as his cock perked up. 

“It wouldn’t have been appropriate for us to haxe sex in your office,” Hunter said. “I didn’t want to ruin your sterling reputation.”

His _sterling reputation_?Were they in some sort of regency romance where being seen with a man would sully his honor? Fitz snorted derisively.

“The only one who cares about my reputation is Coulson,” Fitz said. 

“And me.”

“And you,” Fitz conceded. “But Coulson doesn’t give a damn who I shag.” Mostly because Coulson didn’t know who Fitz was shagging, and he’d like to keep it that way. Hunter was right in that sex in his office probably wasn’t the best idea, but wrong about the reasoning.

“That didn’t answer my question,” Hunter said, cocking his head to the side. “So I’m guessing it’s a no? That’s rather awkward, because -”

“It’s not a no,” Fitz interrupted when his brain finally parsed through Hunter’s words. “But I might - need help.” He raised his hands, which had unfortunately started tremoring the moment he’d returned from the office. Fitz hoped it had nothing to do with the kiss and the almost-sex, because if having sex with Hunter caused his hands to shake worse, he was going to be in deep shit.

Not deep enough shit that he didn’t want to try, though.

“I can do that.” Hunter strode across the room in three long, confident strides, hooking his thumbs through Fitz’s belt loops and pulling him close. “If I can kiss you first.”

Fitz answered by pulling Hunter down from a bruising kiss. His tongue plundered Hunter’s mouth, but the other man didn’t seem to mind. Hunter backed them into the sofa and Fitz groped a hand out so he could brace their fall. Hunter clambered on top of Fitz without hesitation, and _damn him_ , he shouldn’t have been allowed to be the perfect mixture of dominant and caring that brought Fitz to his knees. Or would’ve brought him to his knees, if he wasn’t pinned between Hunter and the sofa.

“This doesn’t seem like getting naked,” Fitz gasped in between fervent kisses.

“Do I really seem like the sort of man who skips foreplay?” Hunter murmured, nipping at Fitz’s bottom lip. “Another reason I couldn’t shag you in the office. I’d barely have time to get you off.”

“Trust me,” Fitz panted, arching into Hunter’s touch. “You’d have had plenty of time.” It wasn’t his fault his body _reacted_ to Hunter. If the man wanted to he could probably get Fitz off with just his voice. 

“But baby,” Hunter crooned, sending a jolt of heat straight to Fitz’s cock. “You deserve more than a rushed handjob under a desk. Especially for our first time.”

“Our first time?” Fitz repeated dumbly.

“You don’t seem like the kind of man who does one-night stands,” Hunter said with a smirk, nuzzling into Fitz’s neck. “And I’d rather like to keep you, too.”

He was right, but he didn’t need to be so damn cocky about it. Fitz grunted as Hunter ground against him, delicious friction even through the layers of fabric between them. Who the hell was he kidding? Hunter’s cockiness was the exact reason Fitz liked him.

“Your assumption is unfortunately correct.”

“Unfortunately?” Hunter repeated, tugging on Fitz’s hair. “Love, you know you want me. You can drop the grumpy scientist act.”

 _It’s not an act_ , Fitz wanted to protest. 

“Does defense mechanism work better?” Hunter asked, breaking away from Fitz to stare down at him with warm caramel eyes. “Either way, I know what’s here.” He tapped the center of Fitz’s chest. “And I know it isn’t crotchety consulting detective.”

Blush rose high in Fitz’s cheeks. 

“Ah ha!” Hunter pressed a kiss against Fitz’s pinkened skin. “I knew it!”

“This was not what I expected when you wrestled me onto the couch,” Fitz said, trying to look serious and failing.

“Sorry, sorry, we can get back to that now.” True to his word Hunter went back to kissing Fitz enthusiastically. This time instead of keeping his hand on Fitz’s belt loop it migrated in between their bodies. One by one he undid Fitz’s buttons, and Fitz hated how his heart kept skipping beats when the tips of Hunter’s fingers brushed against the skin of his stomach and chest.

Hunter rolled off him in order to undo his jeans, and Fitz whined pitifully when Hunter reached beneath the waistband of his boxers and began fondling his cock.

“Top or bottom?” Hunter asked. 

“I can do either.”

“Which do you _like_?” Hunter asked, peering up at Fitz.

“B-bottom.”

“Lube?”

“In the bedroom.”

“We should probably be heading there anyways.” Hunter was smirking again, and Fitz surged forward to kiss the smirk off his lips. It proved much more effective than rolling his eyes.

Hunter began shedding his own clothing as they stumbled down the hallway into Fitz’s bedroom, until they were both in just their boxers and socks. Fitz’s hands weren’t shaking so badly he couldn’t manage to get his own socks off, and judging by the hungry look in Hunter’s eyes, the other man would be the one stripping Fitz’s boxers off when the time was right.

Fitz jerked out the drawer that had the lube and passed it wordlessly to Hunter, who was now entirely naked and _much_ too beautiful to be real. Fitz had known the other man was muscular from the start, but without a shirt or trousers on, Hunter’s musculature was even more obvious. The cut of his abs, the deep V of his hips - Fitz licked his lips, his cock jerking in agreement. FUcking beautiful, that’s what Hunter was.

“When was the last time you did this?” Hunter asked as he flipped open the top of the lube.

“Um. It’s been a while.” Long enough that Fitz definitely couldn’t remember the last time - just that the last time he _had_ done it, he’d ended up in a puddle of happy hormones on his bed.

“We’ll take it slow then. I owe you that much.”

“Huh?” Fitz didn't understand where Hunter got the idea that he _owed_ Fitz anything.

“For flustering you on the bus with the question,” Hunter said, reaching forward to kiss Fitz’s shoulder. “Let me make it up to you.”

“I thought makeup sex was supposed to be after we argued?”

“Would you like us to argue?” Because if that’s what gets you going -”

“No,” Fitz interrupted, eyeing Hunter as he coated two of his fingers with lube. “No, this is fine.”

“Hands and knees, love.” Fitz obeyed the command, presenting his arse to Hunter and trying not to blush too red because of it. This was what he wanted and Hunter was obviously into it, too - it didn’t make sense to be embarrassed just because it had been a while.

It was more that he was worried about his ability to hold on, Fitz admitted to himself when Hunter pressed one finger inside him. HIs cock was already painfully hard, and Hunter -

Well, it was obvious Hunter was just as good with his hands as he was with his brain.

He was an attentive lover, which didn’t surprise Fitz whatsoever. He crooned sweet nothings as he worked on opening Fitz up, paid attention to every soft whimper Fitz made and adjusted accordingly, and even stopped once or twice to coax Fitz into a kiss.

“Are you ready?” Hunter asked when he had opened Fitz up in all the best ways.

Fitz whined. “Gonna cum.”

“Oh, I know, baby.” Hunter reached around Fitz to take Fitz’s cock in his hand, somehow managing to make it even harder with a few lazy pumps of his hand. “I want you to cum.”

“Don’t wanna,” Fitz panted, rocking his weight forward onto his hands in a vain attempt to escape Hunter’s teasing. “Want to wait for you.”

“Love,” Hunter whispered. Fitz groaned brokenly when Hunter squeezed his cock with the gentlest of pressures. “I can’t cum before you do.”

“You can.” Fitz rocked back onto his haunches, groaning again. Hunter’s hand was still around the base of his cock and if he rocked his weight back and forth like he was doing it was _almost_ like Hunter was jacking him off, and it was - “ _Fu-uck_ ,” Fitz breathed when Hunter released him.

“No I can’t.” Hunter traced a finger up Fitz’s stomach. “What sort of makeup sex would it be then?”

“The good kind,” Fitz panted. 

“I think it’s the good kind when you cum so hard you see stars,” Hunter declared. 

“Never happened before.”

“What sort od sex have you been having?” Hunter tutted. 

“Just put your cock in me,” Fitz snapped.

“Ah, there’s the temper I know and love,” Hunter chuckled. Nevertheless he obliged, pressing the tip of his cock against Fitz’s hole. “Tell me if it’s too much, yeah?”

It wasn’t too much. If anything, it wasn’t enough. Not that _Hunter_ wasn’t enough - he absolutely was - but Fitz’s brain was scrambled and he was at the point where he just wanted _more, more, more_. Hunter’s fist closed around Fitz’s cock again, and with every thrust of Hunter’s hips Fitz’s also jerked forward, until eh was fucking hismelf on Hunter’s cock and hand both.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Fitz said, the string of curses continuing without much variety as one by one every word was stripped from his brain except _fuck_ and _Hunter_ , and, when he was focusing, _gotta cum._

“Yes baby, you’re being fucked,” Hunter said, his ragged breathing giving his voice a hard edge Fitz hadn’t ever heard before but found exquisite. “You like being fucked like this, yeah? You like me jacking you off while I pound into you? You like that?”

 _Yes_ and _no_ were among the words Fitz had forgotten, so he just grunted in time with Hunter’s thrusts and hoped the other man knew what he meant.

“Fuck!” The groan became a shout when Hunter nudged against the one spot Fitz had never been able to reach himself, even with a toy. 

In the end, it was another guttural _fuck!_ that spilled out of Fitz’s mouth when he finally exploded.

He understood now what Hunter meant by cumming so hard he saw stars. There was a whole damn galaxy behind Fitz’s eyelids, like he had been thrown into space without warning.

“Can I keep going?” Hunter grunted

“Yes, yes, yes.” Fitz remembered the word again now, and he remembered how to use it. His cock bobbled when Hunter hit his prostate again, and Fitz bit his lip against the jolt of it. Was it supposed to feel like that? He didn’t know, because _good_ and _bad_ were all jumbled after an orgasm, and -

“ _Mmm_.” Hunter wasn’t nearly as vocal when he blew his load, but Fitz knew it had happened regardless from the rush of warmth coursing through him.

They collapsed into a heap on the mattress, both spent, and Fitz stared at the ceiling with glazed eyes.

“That was…”

“I’m hoping that’s searching for an appropriate synonym for mind-boggling and not a method of expressing your disappointment,” Hunter said, nosing into Fitz’s shoulder. “I should’ve warned you, I’m a snuggler.”

Fitz hated how much he was blushing tonight, and hated even more how much he didn’t hate Hunter cuddling up to him.

“Yeah, it was. Um. Will you be mad if I say _good_?”

Hunter snorted. “As long as you actually mean more than good, I’ll find it in my heart to forgive you.”

“I do,” Fitz said, turning his head to press his nose into Hunter’s hair. “Thank you.”

“Is the thank you for the shag or for checking in?” Hunter asked, curling an arm around Fitz’s bare waist. 

“Both.”

“Then you’re welcome,” Hunter yawned. “Look what you’ve gotten yourself into, Fitz. I’m inviting myself for a sleepover after the first time.”

“You said it wasn’t a one-night stand,” Fitz murmured. “So it’s fine if you sleep over.”

Hunter laughed, the sound filling the small bedroom. “Thanks, love.”

“Welcome.”

\---

“What are we?” Fitz blurted at breakfast the next morning. Since Hunter had declared the night before he didn’t see this as a one-time thing and Fitz had agreed with them, they were obviously not done with the sex part. But -

“Are you asking me to be your boyfriend, Leo?” Hunter asked, his fork hanging jauntily out of his mouth.

“I didn’t say that,” Fitz sniffed, doing his best to project the haughty, unattached persona he had spent most of his life crafting.

“Shame,” Hunter said, taking the fork out of his mouth so he could twirl it between his fingers. “Because I would have said yes.”

“... But that’s what I meant,” Fitz admitted. Of course Hunter probably knew that already, since he had been able to see through the rest of Fitz’s bullshit, but what sort of boyfriend would he be if he couldn’t even be honest about what he was feeling?

“I should probably take myself off the case then, shouldn’t I?” Hunter asked. “Wouldn’t be professional.”

“Coulson doesn’t have to know.”

“Love, I think he’ll know.” Hunter smirked again, more broadly. “You look like a tomato every time I smile at you, you know that?”

“Shut up.”

“Is that how you speak to all your boyfriends?” Hunter asked, still all playful smiles. “Because you should work on that if you do.”

“I only want boyfriends who like it when I’m mean to them,” Fitz declared. “Or boyfriends who will argue with me.”

“Why’s that?”

It was Fitz’s turn to smirk. “Because I’ve learned I quite enjoy makeup sex.”


End file.
